


We Are The Hollow Men

by Spudato



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Forsworn, Gen, OC-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spudato/pseuds/Spudato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The roars of the new Dragonborn can be heard all across Skyrim, and now young Bosmer Forsworn Nathien is in more danger than she realises. While the Forsworn begin to mobilise across the Reach, the Matriarch has other plans for Nathien's fate, and it'll take more than just family to survive in a world falling apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

_'The Forsworn Reality' - by Elyna Moorford_

INTRODUCTION FROM THE AUTHOR

 

To any traveller worth their salt, they would know the Reach is one hold that boasts an equal share of prize and danger. The Dwemer Ruins that sprinkle the landscape promise loot and glory that could give a man enough money to pass onto his children's children, but the Automatons and Centurions that dwell inside have brought many to Death's door. If one is able to boast of his or her ability to hunt, then the animals that roam on the highlands of the Reach will be a great reward for their skills. However, the large packs of wolves, ferocious bears and stalking sabre cats have made many a foolish hunter their meal.

... If one were to explore the great hills and mountains that surround and protect Markarth, one would see some of the most beautiful sights the lands of Skyrim have to offer. But if you were to do that, then one may meet one of the more recent dangers that the Reach has been plagued with. In fact, to even simply reach Markarth unscathed is an achievement in and of itself, for the hills are now cursed with the troubled people of generations past. These natives carry a name which strikes fear into the hearts of many, and this name is 'Forsworn'.

As a Breton, I have always felt it necessary to learn more about my people and the lands that were once theirs. Of course, the majority of books and tomes one can find on the subject of the Forsworn are often biased with strong Nordic origins and little research. Of course, as the Forsworn tend to kill whoever is not one of their people, research is understandably difficult to pursue and obtain. However, I am lucky to say I have found a few who were, once, Forsworn. Better yet, they have kindly retold their story of their time with the Forsworn, and I shall tell you now this story is one that has moved me. This is not like the stories of Talos, nor of the Dragonborn, where great glory is achieved. This is the story of desperation, commitment and of great companionship, and I feel privileged to be telling you all of this great triumph.


	2. First Conflict: The Beginning

11th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

  
**CHAPTER 1** : The Beginning

-

Just west of the Dwemer Ruin of Bthardamz, on a ledge upon one of the numerous mountains of the Reach, was a little camp. It contained few tents and fewer people, but the camp had remained there for a good few years and seemed to have no intention of moving away. This camp belonged to not trader or hunter, however; this camp was one belonging to the Forsworn, whom terrorised the hold with similar scattered camps.

Although, it was a small camp regardless, with only a total of nine occupants – two of these being a Matriarch known as Vyctanna and her Briarheart protector. While some camps boasted numbers of well over twenty, this camp was more of a scouting party, so that if any suspicious movement was seen, it could be wiped out before it became a threat. Needless to say, life wasn't very interesting as rarely were people stupid enough to come close, either due to the Forsworn threat or the nearby Dwemer Ruins.

Life was quiet. As quiet as it could get for a terrorist group, anyway.

"Nathien! Nathien, what're you... don't drop them, girl!"

Stumbling over her oversized boots for what felt like the hundredth time, the short Bosmer girl grunted under the enormous weight of the new swords. She was carrying about ten of them, the other six having been carried up on her previous trip, and her arms were aching badly. It wouldn't have been so bad if Chrystyn hadn't accidentally made her new boots several sizes too large, and now every step was causing the toe of Nathien's boots to catch on the other foot. She'd dropped three swords on the way back up the hill from Bedard's grindstone and had had to stagger back down to retrieve them. Why Bedard kept his grindstone at the bottom of the hill was knowledge Nathien didn't have, but apparently it had something to do with Axel, their Briarheart, becoming rather annoyed with the sound when it was with the rest of camp.

"Now put them down gent- I said gently! You'll blunt the damned things before we even use them, girl!"

Alexia's voice echoed around the mountain, and Nathien winced as she bent down to gently lay the swords by the smaller pile. Arranging them into a neat heap, she stood straight to be greeted by a painful back. She needed to remember to lift with her legs and not with her back, which she always made the mistake of doing.

A large shadow was casted over Nathien's form, and she turned to see Alexia, tall and muscular and a giant in comparison to Nathien's tiny Bosmer body. Alexia could throw grown men around if she wanted to, and she did. Frequently. Alexia was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, but for Nathien she was just bossy. If anyone was to give her chores, it would be her. 'Go and bind the sword hilts', 'go and pick the snowberries', 'go and help Chrystyn make new clothes' and on and on. Just because Nathien was untitled seemed to make Alexia think she could make her do what she wanted.

Looking the Bosmer up and down, Alexia gave her a dirty stare as Nathien avoided her eyes. She enjoyed to intimidate people, and it was always fun intimidating Nathien as the poor girl always squirmed under her gaze.

"What on Earth took you so long?" she demanded, and Nathien wrung her hands together as she found an interesting pebble on the ground. "I've seen mammoths that can climb these hills faster than you!"

In response, Nathien timidly pointed to her boots. The rim of the boots had a clear inch of space around her slender legs, and she could nearly slip her foot out without touching the boot at all. Chrystyn had accidentally made them for Rodynak as she'd forgotten she'd already made a pair for him the week prior. She was out hunting with Varnis and Alyssa, however, and wouldn't be back until the end of the week. That meant her boots would have to go without being adjusted for a while and it was proving a difficult feat to work through it.

Staring at the boots before glancing back to Nathien's thin face, Alexia only sneered at her.

"Oh? Blaming perfectly good boots, eh? Well, next time you can do your work with no boots at all and we'll use the resources for something else, hm?"

Thinking of the thistles and nettles which lined the edges of the thin path up to camp, Nathien paled and shook her head frantically, her dark hair falling before her light eyes. She was pretty sure she'd rather fight a whole group of Nords than take the long path barefooted. Alexia only grinned at her reaction.

"I can't hear you. Are you saying you would?"

"N- no. No thank you, Alexia. I'll... I'll keep them on." Nathien tripped over her word as she spoke, still avoiding Alexia's eyes, and Alexia grunted in approval. She motioned to Nathien's tent and turned away from the teenager.

"Get your scrawny self out of here. Go and hunt some food or something."

This was one chore Nathien did enjoy, and with a growing smile she jogged to her tent, tripping over herself as she slid inside. Her tent was right on the cliff edge, which meant it was often battered by the wind during the winter. However, it kept her warm and safe and was private. It was all she really needed. With growing excitement she tore off the big boots and put her old ones on. They were torn and worn and full of holes, but they at least fit and she'd be more silent with them on. Then, she grabbed her bow and axes before gently lifting her new headdress off the ground.

It wasn't unlike Axel's elk helm, but was made from the skin of a younger deer instead, with smaller antlers. Nathien had specially requested it and was very proud of it, only wearing it to go hunting or scouting. Slipping the helm over her head, Nathien slung the bow and her quiver over her shoulder and slid her two axes into the small leather rings on her belt. Then, she crawled out of her tent into the camp. Alexia had disappeared, and Nathien took the chance to silently slip out of camp down the path, heading out into the plains of the Reach.

The camp's largest tent belonged to Vyctanna and Axel, and Alexia slid in once Nathien was out of sight. Rodynak had been in there for a while now, and she was irritated that she'd been left out to attend to Nathien. She was still second in command of camp, but the invitations to join in discussion never seemed to appear. As she entered the darkened space, however, she was met by Rodynak's grinning face.

"The entire hold heard you screaming, Alexia. Try toning it down next time?"

Vyctanna and Axel seemed to be discussing something quietly in the corner, and Rodynak's light-hearted jest made Alexia hesitate. She'd thought something serious was being discussed. Regardless, she puffed her chest out and sat down next to Rodynak on the mat.

"Nathien is the most incapable Forsworn I may ever have the displeasure to see. You brought her here." She turned to face him and glared, jabbing a finger into his chest. "You take care of her."

Rodynak just laughed again, and before Alexia could strangle him, Vyctanna and Axel returned to stand before them. Both instantly quieted down as Vyctanna nodded to Alexia.

"Now you're here, let's begin our next issue."

Flattered that they'd waited for her, Alexia puffed her chest out again, and Rodynak made a little smirk in her direction before focusing back on the leaders before him.

Vyctanna was a hagraven, and thus she stood hunched over, hands now clawed, her feet morphed into talons. Her long hooked nose made her black eyes appear small, and her long dark hair fell around her shoulders, causing her pale skin to almost glow. She wheezed with every breath, the change into her current form having taken great toll on her health, and Rodynak – while he never said it out loud – had always found her rather frightening. Of course, hagravens were meant to look frightening in the end, the product of dark magic. It still gave him a cold feeling in his stomach when he heard her talking, however. Alexia had once reported the same.

In contrast to Vyctanna, Axel was a mountain of a man. Rodynak had always been proud of his strength, but when he stood by Axel it was clear Axel could snap his spine as easily as breathing. Axel was incredibly tall, enough that his head was very near the top of the tent, and as he gazed down at Rodynak, Rodynak felt like he was being observed by Hircine himself. It was clear to see why Vyctanna had chosen Axel to become a Briarheart – or rather, why Axel had asked to become a Briarheart, in any case.

Vyctanna stepped back to settle down in her chair, and Axel sat beside her, staring up to her protectively. As the lantern in the corner flickered there was a moment of silence, and then Vyctanna spoke up with her wheezing voice.

"As we all know, the Dragonborn has risen out of the ashes of Helgen."

Silence fell again. Rodynak knew this had been coming. The Dragonborn was a Nordic legend, and now had come to life once again. Not only an automatic hatred from the Forsworn initiated, but the Dragonborn's chances of interfering with the Forsworn were high.

"This cannot stand. The rise of the Dragonborn shall cause the people of the Reach to think some sort of hero is here. We will most certainly lose what little influence we have."

"I mean no disrespect, Vyctanna," Alexia spoke up, frowning at her words. Everyone turned to listen to her, and her face went red from the sudden attention. "But, uh... the Dragonborn surely does not have the power to be a threat? The attack on Helgen was only four weeks ago, and before that..." she hesitated. "Well, there was never any word of some great warrior. The man was to be beheaded!"

Vyctanna nodded, and Alexia leaned forward, her expression shifting into impatience as she gained confidence.

"And dragons are returning! While Axel and yourself may be able to take one down together, I'm very sure I can't, nor Rodynak nor Varnis nor anyone! I think they pose a far larger threat-"

"Alexia." Vyctanna's voice silenced her immediately. Spluttering on her words, she stared down to the woven rug beneath her, aware she'd said too much. Vyctanna's patience only lasted so long, and Rodynak grimaced. Alexia tended to push her luck too often around Vyctanna for his liking. Just speaking to Vyctanna kept him on edge enough as it was.

After a few seconds of silence, she spoke up again, both Forsworn lifting their heads back up to her again. Alexia's face was still bright red, hands clenched into fists, watching Vyctanna's black eyes with as much dignity as she could. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his companion, he too focused upon Vyctanna.

"I am aware..." she began slowly, studying the duo. "That dragons are now a danger to us. However, I doubt one would bother hunting down a camp as small as ours. Furthermore, the Dragonborn can be commanded, unlike a dragon. Who is to say that the Jarl of Markarth won't, for example, send a message to the Dragonborn to ask him to wipe out as many Forsworn camps as he can? The Dragonborn may not have much power right now..." she stood and turned suddenly, observing her shrine for the Old Gods that was behind her chair. The room suddenly felt colder, and Rodynak glanced at Alexia quickly, who simply raised her eyebrows in response. "But he has the potential. The Jarls will ensure he gains the power he needs, and quickly."

There was a gust of wind that caused to tent to shake, the flaps of the opening whipping aside to let a frosty autumn wind charge in. The lanterns around the tent suddenly went out to plunge them into darkness, the thick clouds outside blocking light from the sun. Alexia pushed her hair from her eyes, checking outside as the wind roared and wailed, as if a dragon was landing outside right now. The camp outside was dead, however, but Alexia couldn't help but scoot away from the opening in case a dragon snatched her from where she sat. Axel glanced at Vyctanna's back as she continued to look into the shrine, and he stood up to stride past Rodynak and Alexia to exit the tent, checking outside. As the wind calmed, Vyctanna shook her head, the few black feathers on her arms swaying in the dying breeze.

"Even the world seems to know of the Dragonborn's power." She murmured, and Axel returned from outside suddenly, causing Alexia to yelp a little as he reappeared. Pulling the flaps together firmly, Axel returned to his place beside Vyctanna and sat down, admiring her with utter dedication. Vyctanna continued to study the shrine a little longer, and Rodynak peered at Alexia once more.

"Where's Nathien?" he whispered softly under his breath, and Alexia scoffed, rolling her eyes as she adjusted her short hair, made wild by the wind.

"Out."

With that short response, Vyctanna turned to them all again. However, as her view fell upon Rodynak, she stopped to regard him. Even though her stare was intense, Rodynak made himself keep eye contact for what felt like forever. It was impossible to read what she was thinking or planning, and she finally spoke once more, lifting her head up to observe them both.

"Speaking of Nathien, I want to announce my plans for her."

Rodynak frowned, unsure what that meant. Her plans for Nathien? He knew they'd had talks about her before, as she was a Bosmer and not one of the Bretons that the Forsworn were known for, but the only plan he'd known was to teach her like any other Forsworn. Her talent with her bow and axes made her a formidable opponent for even the biggest of Nords, and thus they'd agreed she'd be a valuable addition to the Forsworn. Perhaps, he reasoned, she was talking about her finally getting titled. Clearly, from the thunderous expression on Alexia's face, she thought the same.

"Are you talking about titling her?" she burst out, causing Vyctanna to glance at her as Alexia got up on her knees. "Because in the history of the Forsworn she's one of the most useless of us-"

"Alexia!" Vyctanna's voice hardened, and Alexia stared helplessly at her. Rodynak was sure Vyctanna knew the reason behind Alexia's worry, and she wouldn't stand for it. To be frank, neither would he. Alexia was incredibly pretty sometimes.

"Either be quiet or leave. Nathien is of incredible value to the Forsworn and if you are blind to it then I am afraid that is your own issue!" With every word, Alexia sank down a little more and a little more until she was not only sat down again, but with her head bowed low in humiliation. Rodynak felt a stir of pity, and ignored it. Time and time again she brought it on herself. It was, as Vyctanna had said, her own issue.

Once Alexia had turned utterly soundless, Vyctanna turned back to Rodynak. The pressure seemed to be building up in the quiet, and Rodynak finally asked "What plans do you have?"

"As we all know, many camps are now attacking several areas of the Reach to gain territory. However, this is causing much tension. Camps are looking at each other as traitors for small reasons, and with the inclusion of Nathien and Alexia in our ranks fellow Forsworn are noting us as sympathisers."

Snapping his head around to stare at Alexia, even she appeared shocked, head raised up with her mouth open, soundless. With a note of worry in his voice, Rodynak stammered in confusion.

"H-How do they know of Alexia? We... not even all of camp know that she's Imperia-"

"Hush!" the hagraven inspected the tent, as if checking for any spies. She gave a quick glance to Axel and he stood up with a small nod, striding outside again and closing the flap behind him. There were a few minutes of silence, Rodynak regarding Alexia in worry. He'd thought they'd hidden the truth well enough, and Alexia must have thought the same. She had enough Breton in her family line to play it off as one, because while muscular she was not as tall as the average Imperial and was still slighter. Had it been a wild rumour too close to the truth?

Axel stuck his head in after a few minutes, shaking his head before leaving again. Vyctanna's shoulders lowered a little, making a little sigh that transformed into a wheeze at his confirmation.

"I could not tell you if I knew, Rodynak." She continued, still peering around her tent. "But I do know people are saying we are looking more like traitors every passing day. While the situation with Alexia is not as dire, having a Bosmer with us... well, that is enough for people to question us."

"So what do you suggest?"

Vyctanna paused her searching and eyed him closely, another breeze slipping through the flap to ruffle his hair. Rodynak had a cold feeling in his stomach, and he tried to ignore it as best he could. Vyctanna seemed to be delaying the news, and he was sure it was because he wasn't going to like it.

"I want..." she began in her wheezing voice, looking away from him as her words filled the empty space around them. "To turn Nathien into a Briarheart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Author's Note] Chapter one of any book, I find, is used to introduce the issue at hand. Chronicles of Ancient Darkness, the Chaos Walking Trilogy, Harry Potter... that's what chapter one usually is. And in this story... the issue at hand sucks. Poor Nathien.
> 
> Also, 'Hearthfire' is our September, but in both Skyrim and... Morrowind (I think) it was written as 'Heart Fire'. I'm sticking with the wiki spelling of 'Hearthfire' for the sake of my sanity. Namely because it makes more sense than 'Heart Fire'.


	3. First Conflict: I Promise

11th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

 **CHAPTER 2** : I Promise

 

* * *

Nathien knew the area around camp as well as she knew the camp itself. If you went straight down the slope and then went right past the dragon burial site, you would eventually start climbing to the top of a hill where hunting was plentiful. While prey like deer and elk rarely strayed so far north, this was the home of the goats. They were slow and easy to sneak by, and thus Nathien was confident she could bring back plenty of meat. There was always something to kill even you managed to scare them. Chasing them down or sinking an arrow into their necks was simple enough and Nathien was sure she could probably manage it in her sleep. All it took was a bit of skill.

Nathien began to make her way over toward the hills, feeling the grass between the holes of her boots and the cool breeze on her arms and cheeks. The camp was in a great place – the ground dipped and rose and obscured any paths, so much so that Nathien often made double-takes when making her way home. She'd find it in the end; once you were in the right direction the slope was recognisable and all she had to do was navigate the rocks. For any outsiders, however, you had to be a little more aware. It was due to the confusion it caused that the Forsworn above could pick them off with ease. It was sort of like a game; egging them on to get closer and closer before killing them when they got too close. Nathien had seen one Reach guard wander in circles for twenty minutes, all of his companions long dead, before she'd shot an arrow deep into his thigh. He'd still been bleeding out nearly ten minutes later (clearly she'd missed the artery she'd been hoping to hit) and it took another arrow to silence him for good. To be honest, making him bleed to death had been the intention, but he'd been too loud and it'd taken too long and Alexia had been getting bored with the show. It wasn't much fun just watching someone pathetically writhe around for ten minutes.

Even though it was games like this that made people think the Forsworn were incredibly barbaric, it filled up the hours of nothing they sometimes had to compete with. Besides, the Forsworn were evil to everyone who wasn't Forsworn themselves, so what did a few gory games matter? It helped Nathien improve her aim, anyway.

Making her way to the right, she crossed over the first bit of flat land. You could see it from the camp and it was very pretty. A few trees grew over the exposed rocks in the ground, the terrain uneven and some of it falling into natural trenches, shaded by the ledges of soil. Ahead there were two paths – one to the left that led to the top of one hill, and a little dip between the hills that would lead to a dragon burial site. Hopping over the rocks and down onto the soft earth below, she strode towards the dip and then immediately crouched down.

Just as she'd expected, a few goats wandered around lazily. They weren't paying much attention to the ground below, and with small movements Nathien took her bow from her shoulder and placed it beside her. Then, with equal caution, she took one long arrow from the quiver and laid that beside her too. Then, she took the bow once more and shifted herself into a squat, so that her arm was free to pull back the string. Picking up the arrow, she placed the arrow into her bow and drew it back, letting the string touch her chin as she took aim.

One of the larger ones seem eager to get shot; it moved away from the other goats and began to walk across the dip, it's wide, flat side a begging target. Breathing lightly, Nathien followed the route until it stopped moving for a moment, looking over the horizon.

With a long breath out, she let the arrow fly.

It not only hit its target, but it sent it flying. It fell back over the dip, and the other goats looked up in alarm. As they began to turn to flee, Nathien stood from her spot and drew another arrow, sending it soaring over the grass. Once more, it hit the animal and threw it aside, but before she could draw a third arrow to kill the last goat, all she could see was the rear end disappearing down the other side of the dip. The breeze ruffled her hair again as the sound of distant 'beh's drifted further away, and with a shrug Nathien put her bow back on her shoulder and began to hike up the dip towards the corpses.

Skinning them then and there wouldn't be possible – she'd left her tools at camp in the rush to leave, but it didn't matter. She could drag them down by the trees and leave them there while she hunted some more. Two goats would be enough for a day or two anyway, so she didn't have to go too far away from them. Thus, she grabbed a leg of either goat in her hands and began to drag them back down the dip towards the trees and rocks below. They weren't too hard to drag as the ground was sloped downwards, and soon she had pulled them all the way to the shade of the trees. Once she'd kicked them into a heap, she took her arrows from their bodies and wiped them clean on the grass. Once stowed away in her quiver once again, Nathien looked at the corpses with pride.

"You two stay here. I'll be back soon."

Then, she returned to the dip, climbing up the slope until she was looking at another awesome view. This time it levelled out again, but now a pond was sunk into the ground just ahead of her, and beyond that to the right was the huge dragon burial mound. Further ahead than that, the ground dipped again and didn't rise, meaning the breathtaking view of the Skyrim horizon was clear to all. Nathien took a moment to appreciate it – few people got the chance to – before she headed down, skirting the pool before ducking into the long grass as soon as the ground levelled out. A quiet bubble of water from the pond made soft music over the breeze, but Nathien ignored it as she crept closer to the exquisite burial mound. This was when she had to be more careful.

For as long as she'd been with the Forsworn, a huge sabre cat had made its home under a shelf of rock straight ahead of her, and right now she could see its sleeping form, the mauled body of a goat nearby. Saber cats liked to sleep after a kill. Nathien had been lucky this time.

Keeping her distance from the slumbering animal, Nathien crept her way towards the burial mound. She loved the old thing – its weather worn stones and the mossy ring of dirt felt magical to her, and the fact she was not feet above the body of a  _dragon_ was not lost on her. Sometimes she liked to just sit there for the sake of it, just to feel the magic in the air. Even with the sleeping danger close by, she took the time to crouch over the flat earth and stare into the distance, the growling snores of the sabre cat reverberating through the air.

As she began to move away from the burial mound, however, a vicious gust of wind came from nowhere at all. Nathien could barely breathe, and covered her face from the cutting edge of the wind. The roar that fell across the space below the hills sounded like one from an awakening dragon, and Nathien closed her eyes as all sound was drowned out by the screams of the summoned blast.

Then, it stopped as quickly as it had begun. In its place was a deafening silence, and Nathien looked around, confused. What on Earth had made such a huge gust?

Behind her, the sabre cat grunted and shifted, beginning to rise up. Looking back at it, Nathien took the hint and began to sneak her way over the where the hill dropped suddenly, far from the sights of the sabre cat. A rudely awoken sabre cat was even worse than a normal one, and Nathien knew she'd probably have to find another way back. Best not to take your chances with the animals of Skyrim, Rodynak usually said.

The hill now took a downwards descent, and again Nathien stuck to the right. The left led to the Lover Stone, which Nathien had chosen years ago when she'd first entered the Forsworn. However, sticking to the right led to a steep drop all the way to the base of the hill, and also to the road that went directly to Markarth's stables and the city itself. Nathien liked to watch over the road for any passing people after a hunt, bow readied to scare them off – or even kill. While similar to the game from the camp, this was her private game, made for one. Consequently, it was also one of the reasons she was so adept at making invisibility potions, when and if she could get the ingredients. Of course, a perk with all the killing meant loot, and loot was incredibly useful for alchemy. Sometimes finished potions came in bundles, and other times it was just the required ingredients. Although, she mused to herself as she clambered over rocks, it would be nice if more people carried Nirnroot. She knew where to get it, but unfortunately she wasn't allowed to wander far enough to collect more. Again, she relied on loot from Nords to cover her needs.

Sliding down the hillside carefully, she made her way over to a ledge covered with bushes and rocks. Here, she could hide, prime her bow and pick off any wanderers. The only downside was it was rather close to the ground; if she only crouched you could still see her head, and shooting was awkward. Still, it proved time and time again to hide her adequately, and it was her favourite spot along the whole road to hide in.

Once on the ledge, Nathien crouched behind the bushes and pulled her bow off her shoulder. Then, from the small pouch on her hip, she took out her invisibility potion which she kept on her at all times. Even though it only lasted twenty seconds, it was invaluable when in trouble, and Nathien was pretty sure she was going to need it if someone came by. Placing beside her within easy reach, Nathien laid down, her body shaded by the rocks around her, and quietly waited.

She didn't need to wait long. After about fifteen minutes of her picking leaves off the bush in front of her, voices began to float down the road from the left towards her. Peeking up, she could see a group of people walking down the road, talking away; three men and one woman, from what she could see. Laughing and chatting loudly, the blonde man up front was loudest of them all, utterly unafraid despite being in Forsworn territory. The woman walked beside him, her arm linked with his, and she was looking at the hills around them every once in a while before turning to smile at something the man said.

As they continued to walk up the road, Nathien slowly reached for her bow, watching and waiting as they moved closer and closer. Their conversation became clearer, and Nathien listened in whilst sliding an arrow out of her quiver.

"... And he tells me, 'no, I won't! Too dangerous, are you mad?!' Hah, for one of the finest swordsmen I've seen he sure is scared!"

"He's really scared of the Forsworn though. Took out his friend, didn't they?"

"Yeah, about... three years ago, now. Shame, that."

Nathien couldn't help but swell with pride. Their message of fear was spreading, and it was making an impact. The disappearance of the fifth party member would be great news to return to Rodynak and Alexia. As a grin grew on her face, the Nord spoke up again.

"What he doesn't seem to see, though, is that the Forsworn are nothing more than a bunch of hide-wearing lucky bastards! Every time they've succeeded at something, it's been nothing more than luck!"

As the group murmured their agreement, some laughter echoing around, Nathien's grin vanished from her face and a shadow was cast over her face. Luck?  _Luck?_ How  _dare_ they put they put  _years_ of effort and work and  _sacrifice_  down to  _luck_? Nathien hadn't spent days shooting in a ferocious storm to practise in wind only to have it put down to  _luck_. Rodynak hadn't spent weeks and months throwing axes at targets, both moving and stationary, to have his excellent aim put down to  _luck._ Alexia hadn't perfected the art of unarmed combat, even against armed opponents, just to have her skill put down to  _luck_. It was incredibly insulting and, as Nathien boosted herself up and drew her arrow, it wouldn't go unpunished.

Breathing lightly as always, she waited, her arrow aimed at a gap in the bush as the Nord man came into view. He was laughing again at the insult, and he turned to look over his right shoulder at his friends behind, making the lethal mistake of showing his face to Nathien's arrow.

The question now was: would he be lucky enough to survive?

In one moment, he was chortling with his friends, blue eyes bright with humour. In the next moment, one arrow was halfway through his eye socket, the smiles of his friends slowly falling as they took in the sight. He was still for a second, still held up by the arm of the woman, other eye wide in shock, before he began to fall. With warped joy running through her body, Nathien watched as he dropped, knees hitting the ground hard and his upper body falling slowly forward. His arm slipped from the woman's own, and the group watched, stunned, as he fell face first, forcing the arrow further into his skull with a satisfying crack. The sharp forked tip was now visible from the back of his skull, glistening with crimson, as his head became haloed with a growing pool of thick blood.

The woman was first to react with a scream, and when she did it lasted a while, filling the air with a shrill shriek that made Nathien's ears ring. With them all distracted with the body, Nathien drank the potion as quick as she could, gathering her bow and quiver to throw them on her back. By the time she stood to run, her body was now shimmering in the light of the falling sun, the men were gathered around the body, looking around to try and spot the murderer. Whether they were too distracted by the body or the screaming, Nathien didn't know, but they didn't shout out 'There she is!' or even make a run for her. Taking the chance for all it was worth, she scrambled back up the steep hill and over the rocks at the top, sprinting for the burial site. Passing the worn rocks and the slumbering sabre cat, Nathien splashed through the pool of water, hissing as the cold water poured into the holes of her boots to freeze her feet. Still, she ran up and over the dip between the hills and towards the goat corpses, and all the way the screams followed her on the breeze, carrying an unnaturally cold wind along with it. Finally, as she reached the corpses, wheezing and coughing, the potion began to wear off to reveal her body again. The screams began to wane somewhere behind her, and as she leant down to regain her breath, a smile ripped across her face. Still panting and wheezing, light-headed from her run, she began to giggle, and once she did it proved hard to stop. Through gasps for breath her laughs grew louder and louder as the screams finally died out, and the hills were slowly filled with the wild song of bloodlust and twisted delight.

Nathien really did enjoy being Forsworn sometimes.

* * *

The tent was deathly silent after Vyctanna's words faded in the air, leaving a heavy atmosphere behind. Rodynak was stunned, staring at his leader wordlessly as his mind replayed her final words over and over. Turning Nathien... into a briarheart? That sounded like something from a twisted nightmare.

Alexia seemed equally as dazed, her moth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and she looked to Rodynak, to Vyctanna and back again. She was confused whether to shout or stay silent, and after a few moments she opted to simply respond with a choked "What?"

Vyctanna, however, disregarded her in favour of Rodynak, waiting for his reaction. She knew what his response was likely to be, and thus she waited patiently for the inevitable whilst Alexia continued to stare at her with wide eyes.

Finally, Rodynak looked away from Vyctanna's dark eyes and looked down, making noises of confusion at the back of his throat. He had a million responses forming, one of them being Alexia's 'what' and his own 'are you crazy?' A little part of him was sure he was dreaming the whole situation right now – that he'd fallen asleep while Vyctanna had been talking and would wake up and she'd be glaring at him for being disrespectful. He wanted to believe it, but most of him was informing him that it was all very, very real. It made him feel sick.

Thus, when the words "You can't do that" slipped from his mouth, Rodynak was aware he hadn't been in control. He was too occupied watching Nathien's future burn in front of him.

However, he was grateful his response had been true. She  _couldn't_  do that – briarhearts, for as long as he could remember, had always offered themselves. Axel had been the same: Rodynak's strongest memory of Axel was Axel going to Vyctanna and asking her to turn him into a briarheart. He'd only known him for a month or so, but he'd been fiercely devoted to the cause and it made sense he would sacrifice himself if only to pave the way to victory. The idea behind it was that your dedication would continue on as a briarheart, and that any forced changes would simply fall through. You yourself had to have to bravery to step up and say 'I'll do it'. Rodynak never had the backbone to do it.

But to force someone? Of all people, force Nathien? Rodynak certainly had the backbone to defend her, that was for sure. This was breaching unsaid rules and he simply wouldn't stand for it. So, as Vyctanna tilted her head slightly at his words, he sat straighter, rearing up for a fight.

"I said,  _you can't do that_. No briarheart can be forced – that's the way it is. Axel was never forced, was he? He gave himself away. You can only do it with Nathien's consent."

Looking over at his friend, Alexia was making a stupid little nod in agreement. They both knew the rules – if their own Matriarch didn't, then Rodynak was going to be having problems with this set up.

However, it appeared Vyctanna was unfazed by his reasoning. "How do you know she will not give me her consent?" she responded coolly, and Rodynak couldn't hold back his glare.

"Because she has a sense of self-preservation. She's better off alive." Pointing to Axel, he growled at the hagraven, feeling fury building up. "I mean, she's not even that strong! Axel has muscles on muscles – yet Nathien can barely drag the corpse of a dog along for ten feet! She's not briarheart material, and I'm sure the others would agree that it's a terrible decision!"

The tent was silent again, and Rodynak was breathing heavily after his outburst. He was entirely right – briarhearts were usually tall males and incredibly strong even before death, whereas Nathien was small and very slight, built for archery and running and sneaking. A Bosmer as a briarheart? He'd sooner eat his boots.

Alexia could only agree with Rodynak, even though she didn't say it. While her dislike for the girl may have been a little misplaced – she was, after all, immensely talented at archery and was an excellent addition to the camp – turning her into a briarheart seemed to be a ridiculous concept. A five-foot-three briarheart. She could feel the terror already.

But  _still_ Vyctanna seemed to be unmoved. She just continued to look Rodynak straight in his hazel eyes without a single hint of any emotion, and it unnerved him. What was she waiting for? An actual fight?

However, after a few tense minutes, her ragged voice finally filled the space of the tent.

"I cannot help but wonder if this opposition of yours... is due to a certain promise with her mother, no?"

You weren't allowed to let promises and oaths get in the way of victory. Marriage, love, hate... promises. They would cause you to take paths you shouldn't. They would cause you to find ways out of situations that shouldn't matter because your duty as a Forsworn was far more important. The first thing Rodynak learned was not to make promises and the first rule he broke was making a promise. But it was already too late for regrets about it now.

"What if it is?" Rodynak replied shortly. "I owed her my life, and in exchange I protect Nathien. Simple enough." With an accusing note in his voice, he added a little louder. "I would never have thought it would be any more difficult than stopping her get eaten by a lone wolf every now and again."

Alexia flinched at his voice, aware he was toeing the line between impatience and flat out disrespect. Axel shifted rather threateningly in the corner, eyes focused on Rodynak's form, but the smaller man wasn't looking at him. Instead, he was still looking into Vyctanna's eyes, almost challenging her to make him regret it. He was being reckless and acting very dangerously – the wrath of a hagraven wasn't a fate he'd wish on anyone – but it seemed she wasn't taking the bait, instead turning to focus on her shrine once again, ruffling her feathers up as a lone breeze pushed through the entrance flap. Rodynak thought of Nathien, probably out hunting again, and hoped she wouldn't return before this bitter business was finished. This would be the last thing he'd want her to overhear.

Vyctanna moved over to a small bookcase, fashioned out of mainly thick bark that Bedard had made for her himself. She looked through the books before picking out what seemed to be a very old, leather bound book. It was falling apart, the cover seemingly stitched back on after years of use, and with a small movement she threw the book to Rodynak, who caught it with one hand. Turning it over, he found that faded ink read 'BOSMER TRADITIONS AND RITUALS', written by... the name was totally faded out against the dark leather, with only the vague shapes of a few letters remaining. Alexia moved closer so she could see too, and Rodynak opened the cover to see yellowed pages filled with small handwriting.

"Page six." Vyctanna added suddenly, and Rodynak flicked through the journal until he found the page. It was clearly well-read, the page permanently creased at the corner and the tattered remains of a bookmark still in place. Squinted at the slightly discoloured ink, he read the words 'WILD HUNT' and the long paragraphs below with Alexia reading over his shoulder.

The contents disturbed him far more than anything should, and as he met the end of the section, he re-read it all over again. Was it actually a real ritual? He'd never heard anything like it before, and it made him feel rather sick again. He'd known that the Bosmer were a bit... barbaric, but this was a whole new level of barbaric that he didn't really want to think about. Alexia also seemed horrified, looking at Vyctanna with shock evident in her face.

"The Bosmer... are  _cannibals_?" she whispered, eyeing the book with concern. "They eat each other and then  _themselves?!_  What kind of... what kind of people..."

"Nathien's people." Vyctanna cut across. "And you two know she carries that same twisted personality with her. You have seen how she kills – she could slaughter towns of people, orphanages and all, without a hint of mercy in her heart. And that is the kind of person we want – the kind we need to fight the enemies we have."

Rodynak hated when people spoken of Nathien's bloodlust. He hated it because he's seen how destructive it was for her. Her face whilst a person before her died slowly, their life in her hands, was one of warped pleasure. Always aiming for fatal places that would undoubtedly lead to a slow death was how Nathien killed, and the fact she enjoyed it so much concerned Rodynak greatly. At least he gave his enemies a quick death – Nathien could watch them writhe around for hours.

But still, even if she was on par with the Dwemer Centurions, it didn't mean they could tie her down and make her even worse. He had promised to protect her and so he would. He smoothly put the book aside and looked back up at Vyctanna, eyes hard, who was waiting for another response from her Ravager.

"I understand what you mean. But I won't let you do it to her. I owe it to the woman who saved my life." He declared, voice strong, and Alexia had to admire his guts. Rodynak was loyal, but he wasn't blind. Vyctanna slowly nodded in response, but when she spoke there was a note of humour in her voice that made the hairs on Rodynak's neck stand on end and his body tense.

"Well, Rodynak. Clearly you are sure of your choice and I must commend you for that. But this decision is not yours to make. Rather, it falls to what the camp thinks is best." Rodynak felt his stomach go cold, and he was hoping she wouldn't say what she was most certainly going to say, because if that was her choice, then Nathien's fate was sealed.

With a wry smile, Vyctanna turned her back on him again. "When all of camp is here, we shall vote on the matter. Majority wins. We shall end our discussion here for today."

Her tone made it clear he wasn't to argue back, and with a stiff nod Rodynak rose up along with Alexia. Turning, he opened the flap to let Alexia out first, and with an irritated backwards glance at Vyctanna he left too, exiting into the cool breeze of the autumn afternoon. Whatever he'd hoped they would talk about hadn't gone to plan at all, and now he felt very tense. Nathien was in a lot of danger now, and he was going to have to keep an eye on her at all times. Well, apart from now. She was still nowhere to be seen, and Alexia shook her head after a deep breath, making her way to her tent.

"Wait." Rodynak stopped her, unsure of what to say. Alexia paused and looked over her shoulder, frowning slightly, and Rodynak bit his lip as she watched him carefully. After a few still seconds, he finally asked "So what do you think of all this?"

Still watching him, she shrugged. "I don't know. I've seen better choices made."

"Are you going to help me look after her?" this time, he returned the frown. "This isn't a case of rank anymore. Her life is in danger."

"I don't know. I guess..." Sighing, Alexia began to walk again, waving him away. "We'll just have to see. It'll be fine, I'm sure."

Entering her own tent, Rodynak was left alone outside, and he chewed his lip again. It didn't feel like it would be fine. It felt rather like everything was starting to fall apart right before his eyes. He hadn't expected this development at all.

A little voice floated through the air, softer than the breeze, and Rodynak turned, confused. For a split second it had sounded like someone was calling his name. But where had it come from? Making his way to the top of the hill, he looked down as his name floated about again, and he grinned. She really couldn't drag a dog's corpse around if her life depended on it.

Nathien was the bottom of the hill, two goats being hauled behind her. She was wailing noisily as she tried to get back up the steep surface, and Bedard was looking down at her from his grindstone, laughing. She'd managed to kill some pretty big goats, but clearly hadn't thought about how she was getting them back up again. Chuckling, Rodynak made his way down past Bedard to the small Bosmer, stopping beside her.

"Didn't think this far ahead, did you?"

"This is your dinner that's rotting."

With a laugh, Rodynak hoisted one of the large goats into his shoulder, and Nathien followed suit, groaning under the weight of the animal. They both began to steadily hike back up, the goats bouncing on their shoulders, and with another little gasp Nathien asked "So, anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

With a forced grin, he responded "Only a few matters of life and death, don't you worry."

There was a burst of relief in his chest as she laughed loudly. She didn't really need to know about her fate just yet. He'd give her a few days to live a little longer, and if everything went downhill from there...

He'd have a plan. It didn't matter what the rest of camp said. He was keeping his promise if it killed him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP this is embarrassingly late. I actually meant to write this, like, the week after chapter 1 came out BUT I got stuck and ended up not finishing it until now. When I'm ill. ._.
> 
> I'm back at school, unfortunately, which means if I update even like once in a blue moon it'll be lucky. But I'll try to push on regardless. This time, we see more of Nathien's character and of course the reaction to Vyctanna's proposition. If you don't know anything about the Wild Hunt ritual, it's on the ES Wiki. It's one of the reasons I love the Bosmer, weirdly enough.
> 
> All and any mistakes are mine and mine alone. Feel free to tell me if anything needs changing!
> 
> Please Review and favourite if you like this! :D


	4. First Conflict: Reunion

13th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

First Conflict: Reunion

 

* * *

 

Nathien was missing charred Skeever hide from her alchemy collection. Frowning, she began to rummage through her various ingredients just to make absolutely sure it wasn’t hidden under the wisp wrappings or something. She was sure she’d kept some around – potions of cure disease were immensely useful – but as she narrowly rescued a bowl of vampire ashes from tipping over she had to admit to herself that she’d run out.

Since Nathien had returned from her short hunting trip a few days ago, life in camp had turned suddenly awkward. Something had happened during the few hours she’d been gone, that was for sure, but no-one was saying anything about anything. In fact, if anyone _was_ saying anything they were certainly making sure she was at least out of earshot. Time and time again she’d caught Rodynak and Alexia whispering to each other whilst giving her concerned looks, and Nathien didn’t like it. She wasn’t ill, as far as she could tell – her face was the same light brown shade it always was, and she felt fit and healthy.

She’d noticed something else too, along with the whispers. Rodynak, for some reason, now avoided Vyctanna and Axel like they carried Brain Rot, and if he had to communicate with them he seemed to throw them dirty looks quite often. He’d never acted like this before, and it was rather concerning. The Matriarch and the Briarhearts commanded absolute respect, and even if Rodynak hadn’t been particularly too respectful in the past, he was now acting rather dangerously. What on Earth had happened that had caused him to start acting like he was?

However, she was determined not to jump to conclusions. Maybe... maybe Vyctanna had heard about her killing that Nord and had... maybe she’d complained to Rodynak that it had been too dangerous or something. And then Rodynak had been concerned that she’d been too adventurous. That made sense... kinda. Or maybe, Vyctanna had said something about her that Rodynak had disagreed with. Rodynak did that a lot – if Alexia had made a comment saying how weak she was, Rodynak became rather aggressive about it and would argue with her for ages. If Vyctanna had said something similar, Nathien could certainly imagine him becoming rather short with her. That made sense too.

However, as Nathien continued to stare at her incomplete collection of ingredients, she knew those reasons all felt very weak to her. Every time she’d killed a Nord, Vyctanna had always congratulated her on her kill. Similarly, Rodynak wouldn’t become so hung up on such a little thing for so long, particularly as it concerned their Matriarch. He’d let it slide quickly enough.

No, it felt like something bigger had occurred during her absence, and a little part of her screaming something she didn’t even want to consider. What if... what if Vyctanna had announced that Nathien wasn’t to be titled at _all_?

That was the reason that made the most sense, and Nathien hated it. Rodynak, who always said he saw so much potential in her, would most certainly become angry at Vyctanna for that. He’d be concerned that, once Nathien learned of her fate, she’d become drawn and weak as after all, most of her energy in practise was to better her chances of titling. He’d be concerned all of that potential would be so easily wasted.

Nathien felt hatred boil for the imaginary Rodynak and Vyctanna in her head, even if all this was simply fantasy. How could Vyctanna not even _consider_ all she’d worked for, to just brush her away like a maid sweeping a floor? And how _dare_ Rodynak consider her so weak? She’d never give up all her work just for something so… stupid! If she was untitled then she’d work the hardest she ever would to make Vyctanna acknowledge her as something so much better! She’d climb a _giant_ if it was what she had to do!

The fantasy in her head felt so real that her rage was starting to grow. She’d starting fiddling with her alchemy to take her mind off her wild imagination, but now she was madder than ever. What in _Oblivion_ did she have to do to get recognised around here?!

With a roar of frustration, she swept all the bowls and boxes for the ingredients off her table, throwing them onto the wall of the tent and tumbling to the floor. Sweet Divines, she was quaking with rage. She was so angry at the scene in her head, panting hard, that she didn’t even notice her tent flap opening behind her.

“... Nathien?”

“What?” she twisted her head quickly, staring hard at Rodynak’s broad form. He paled a little at the intensity in her brown eyes, and he was also shocked to find he was rather intimidated. Intimidated? By a Bosmer? By _Nathien?_ The world was clearly spinning out of control.

“I... I heard you shout. I thought you’d hurt yourself, or...”

Looking back at her fallen bowls and boxes, she paused before reaching over, beginning to pick them back up in short, jerking movements. Hearing his voice calmed her somewhat – all her worries were in her head – but she still felt irritated by his concern. She could handle herself. She’d be dead already if she couldn’t.

“I’m fine.” She bit out, placing the bowls back on the table. There was silence, and as Nathien began to stack them neatly once again, Rodynak sighed, making his way a bit further in and sitting down on the fur mat. He was a bit too big for her tent, as it was designed for a lone, small female, and thus he took up most of the space behind her. Still, he waited until she was finished and quiet once more before speaking.

“Is something wrong?”

“You tell me.” She didn’t mean to sound so cutting, but her anger was still fading slowly. Although, it would be nice if he did tell her – he was the one in the know. Rodynak seemed to understand what she meant, and looked down to his boots with a grim expression. Her heart sped up again as her fear returned – it was all _in her head_ – but she swallowed it down as best she could.

“Well?”

“Look,” he began, before hesitating. “”It’s… Vyctanna and Alexia and I all had a talk together about you. Your… future, see? And the ideas Vyctanna was talking about were ones I thought… thought didn’t make the best use of you. So we had a bit of a scuffle. That’s all.”

So she really was going to be untitled. The thought brought tears to her eyes, and she wiped them away angrily. May as well ask what her fate was.

“Am I going to be untitled?”

The shock on Rodynak’s face comforted her somewhat – clearly that plan wasn’t one discussed between them – and he shook his head frantically, looking at her with worried eyes.

“No, no- _Hircine,_ no! Nothing like that. You’re way more talented than that – that’s not even an option for you.”

His words shouldn’t really have been a huge surprise – she was told she was very skilled often enough - but her imagination had convinced her of her fate. His reassurances suddenly lifted this huge weight off her chest, and with a choked sob Nathien dropped her face into her hands, trying to hold back tears. So she wasn’t going to be untitled. She was going to be fine. What had she been thinking-

“Nathien?! Nathien, you didn’t… you really thought…”

Rodynak’s hands fell onto her shoulders, and she was pulled back into his chest where the wiry fur bushed against her cheek as she turned to look at him. Rodynak’s face was full of concern, his thick eyebrows knitted together as he rubbed her forearms slowly with his large hands. Nathien felt of rush of embarrassment make her face go bright red, her stupidity suddenly making itself known, but her relief was so much greater that she couldn’t stop crying. Her hard work had paid off, and she’d been so idiotic to think otherwise.

Rodynak held her in silence until her sobs eventually came to an end, and then he held her still. Nathien had no complaints about it – Rodynak was the only father figure she’d ever really known, and just him holding her made her feel safe and loved. He inspired confidence and her, and the fact she’d doubted him – even worse, for a moment, _hated_ him – made Nathien feel incredibly guilty.

After a few minutes of soft murmurs from outside, the only sounds being the fire and Alexia and Bedard talking further away, Rodynak spoke.

“If you’d stayed the same since when you’d first arrived… maybe you would’ve been untitled. Let’s be honest, your only shining point was your archery back then.” He chuckled a little at that – no-one in camp had been a good enough archer to teach her, so half of what she knew she’d taught herself. “But you’ve grown since then. Faster than the lot of us combined, I reckon. If you weren’t titled then that would be a grievous mistake on Vyctanna’s part and I promise you, I wouldn’t ever let her hear the end of it. Okay?”

Nathien nodded slightly, and Rodynak gently let her go, allowing her to sit up and wipe her eyes. He watched her carefully, and when she looked back up at him he smiled widely.

“C’mon. Chrystyn and the others should be coming back today. You can ask her to fix your boots, finally.”

That was a good point, and Nathien gave a wobbly smile in return. Rodynak stood up, but had to bend down again when his head knocked into the top of her tent. Opening the flap, he gave her one final little smile before stepping out into the cool winds beyond, leaving Nathien in the soundless space once more. With new vigour, Nathien began to pack away her ingredients in their respective bowls and boxes, placing them precisely into a leather bag she’d made a few months ago to keep everything in order. Maybe she wouldn’t be so careful about it all if she and Alyssa weren’t relied upon for their alchemy skills. As it was, Nathien had to ensure everything was ready for any alchemical emergency. At least it allowed her to burn a few more minutes of time before she also stood, taking a glance behind her at the contents of her space before stepping out into the light of the autumn afternoon.

The day, so far, had been uneventful. Bedard had spent the day making arrows for Nathien and Alexia, and Alexia had simply been watching the hills for any wanderers to kill. Vyctanna and Axel had been in their tent all day, and Nathien was aware the only event of the day would be the return of the hunting group. She’d requested some bone, if they could get any, that she could spend time whittling. Now, she was half-hoping they would have found some Skeever hide for her to use. She should’ve checked her store beforehand, but she was positive she’d had some. Shrugging to herself, she moved towards the fire to warm up a bit. Oh well – she’d probably just have to ask Rodynak if she could go out and fetch some herself. Skeevers were hard to find when you actually wanted them, but Nathien was sure she’d manage… probably.

Sitting by the fire, Nathien stared into the flames silently , wondering where Skeevers would be hiding, before Bedard’s voice echoed around the camp, startling her.

“Hey, Nathien! I’ve got some arrows for you!”

Bedard was a stocky man, the crafter and blacksmith of the camp, and was vital for their survival. Whilst he wasn’t an excellent fighter, he was unmatched in his craft and thus every weapon they shot, swung or threw was made by his hands. Nathien’s bow and axes had been made by him, and they’d saved her life more than several times. In exchange for his skills and work, they kept an obvious secret - Bedard was courting Chrystyn, and if anyone said it out loud then Vyctanna would be quick to swoop down on him. Nathien had always found it strange that, even though they weren’t very secret about their affections and were _always_ hugging or holding hands or kissing or something, Vyctanna seemed to not mind given that no-one actually stated it. Rodynak said it was because both did such diligent work that Vyctanna was simply pointedly ignoring it, and _not to try your own luck with that_. Whatever that was meant to mean.

Bedard was a recent addition to the camp, even more recent than Nathien – about a year or two after her arrival, he’d come along with a few members from another camp, and had decided to stay when he’d been told no-one could craft proper weapons. It had, in short, made life significantly easier, and life was happier too as he was also an incredibly kind man.

He was so kind, in fact, that Nathien had always thought that he wasn’t someone she’d expect in the Forsworn. Alexia and Varnis and Axel and even Rodynak seemed very Forsworn-like, particularly when in battle, but Bedard was so gentle that he seemed more suited to taking long walks at the crack of dawn than helping out and being part of a group of terrorists. When she’d asked, however, on a hot summer night a year or so ago, she’d gained the reply of ‘because I’m like any other Forsworn.’

“I lost my brother during the Incident.” He went go on to explain, as Nathien had shot him a confused look. “To Ulfric himself, in fact. Watched him get cut down like a logger takes out a tree.  Other Forsworn are the same, see. Mother, brother, fathers… even your own children. You watch them fall and all you can feel is hate. You want to act on it, even if… even if it means not being yourself. I can’t fight. But at least I can help.”

Nathien could sympathise, at least somewhat. Her own motivation was rather engineered - the loss of her mother when she disappeared during a raid was her only reasoning for hating Nords, but one reason was better than none. It felt better than admitting she just liked killing people, anyway.

Looking up from the fire, Bedard handed her a new quiver – something she hadn’t asked for but appreciated immensely anyway – which was full to bursting with arrows. Pulling one out, she admired the sharp tips and streamline shape, before returning it to its place in the quiver.

“Thank you – they’re great.”

“No problem. Use ‘em wisely, okay?”

With a grateful nod, Nathien gently placed the weighty quiver down beside her.  At least now she was very well-stocked - she could spend hours shooting off the cliff face and still probably have enough to spare. As Bedard began to move away, Nathien glanced down the hill, where she could see Alexia at the foot. The older woman was incredibly still from where it seemed she’d started to walk back up, and Nathien watch as she turned slowly, to see something out on the horizon. However, Nathien recognised her stance. Tip-toed, back straight with her head forwards and high - that was the stance Nathien often took when scouting for friendlies. If an enemy was coming, it would be a low crouch, leaning forwards, preferably behind a tree or bush. Alexia had spotted something, and it wasn’t a threat.

“I think Chrystyn’s here.” Nathien murmured, still watching closely, and Bedard paused his stride, looking down the hill too. “Alexia’s spotted something.”

With a frown, Bedard walked to the slope, looking across the horizon slowly. Then, he paused, squinting at something before a grin broke across his face. With astonishing grace he began to run down the hill, and Nathien got up quickly to follow as his voice echoed around the mountainside.

“They are! They’re here!”

With a grin of her own, Nathien kicked off the hard earth in a sprint, her old boots allowing her to move far faster than her news ones did. She followed Bedard’s path down the dirt trail, and with growing speed she navigated the steep hillside with immense, Bosmer-born agility. Running down the steep hill was always very dangerous, but she kept moving as she too saw a couple of figures on the horizon.  Her momentary happiness was suddenly washed away with unease, however, as she only counted two figures. Three had originally departed camp, so who was missing? More to the point; why?

The ground began to even out, but now the exposed rocks littered the path. Leaping to avoid them, Nathien hopped onto the larger rocks and slid down to the grass again, not pausing for even a breath. Alexia had met them first – just Chrystyn and Varnis, Alyssa was missing – and Nathien was quick to follow. Both carried their large packs on their backs, weapons stowed to their backs and hips, but both were smiling as Nathien stopped before them.

“Hullo, Nathien. You looked just like a spider coming over those rocks.” Chrystyn teased, and Nathien gave her a weak smile in return before looking into the gap of space between Chrystyn and Varnis.

”Where’s Alyssa?”

Chrystyn blinked, made an o with her mouth and then grinned, suddenly sheepish.

“Oh. Yes, she’s back a while to the south. Another camp had some wounded, and she stopped to help. She should be on her way back now, I reckon.”

It was the second burst of relief Nathien had had in the space of an hour, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t good for her to keep worrying. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from giving Chrystyn a huge hug, and the older Breton simply laughed.

“For the sake of the Divines, love, did you miss me that much?”

Varnis was busily discussing something with Alexia, his face - as usual - dark and serious once again. Chrystyn shook her head at them, laughing as Bedard came around the rocks with a huge grin on his face, having finally caught up. As soon as she laid eyes on the smith, a cry of joy slipped through her lips and Chrystyn pushed Nathien aside dramatically, walking into the arms of her lover before covering his face in a million kisses. Nathien made a face at the act of affection, and when she saw Alexia making a similar face she couldn’t help but laugh too. Even Varnis, who was arguably the sourest man alive, was entirely bemused by their antics.

There came a cry from the top of the hill, and the Forsworn looked up to see Rodynak, followed closely by Axel and Vyctanna, making a little victory dance. Both Chrystyn and Varnis made little waves back, and they watched as Rodynak made a little twirl before leaping high into the air. There was a general murmur of laughter, and then Varnis began to walk away towards the hill, Alexia close behind. Chrystyn and Bedard were still holding each other tightly, and Nathien could hear her muffled voice saying “Let me go now, ‘Dard. I want to get back home and sleep. Let go. I’m not going far.” Nathien giggled again and walked by them to make her way back up the hill too, and eventually the two Bretons followed her, holding hands tightly.

At the top of the hill, Varnis was talking to Rodynak quietly, and Vyctanna and Axel were standing nearby, watching the group closely. As she came closer, Nathien could hear Alyssa’s name being thrown around, and as she turned to look at Vyctanna the hagraven gave her a small nod. Unsure of what that meant, Nathien moved towards Rodynak who was now taking Varnis’s pack from him.

“So you saw a Stormcloak camp? Near here?”

“I’m not sure if it was actually a Stormcloak camp – I don’t reckon it was permanent. It’s close enough to be something to watch though.”

“I see. Thanks.”

As soon as Chrystyn and Bedard were also up the hill and greetings had been exchanged, Vyctanna had stepped closer to Rodynak and grabbed his attention, watching Nathien to see that she’d moved far enough away to not hear her.

“Get her to wash the skins in the pack by the stream. The vote will commence now.”

Rodynak wanted to save it for later – they’d only just gotten all back together – but if he argued back then Nathien would get suspicious. He didn’t want her getting an inkling of what was going on, because what she might do - or worse, what she wouldn’t do - scared him. Unless everything went to Oblivion, he was going to at least try and keep it a secret for as long as he could. So, after a long pause, he nodded rigidly - but he didn’t spare the hagraven from his hardest glare. She didn’t even react to him; he may as well have thrown feathers at a mammoth for all it did. Still, she was going to have his dislike for a long time to come. Taking the pack firmly, he walked over to Nathien and gently tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hey, Nathien. Could you do me an errand quickly?” Her face fell into a frown as she looked at the large pack, as she wanted to talk to Chrystyn to find out about her adventures, but with a sigh and a small nod she took the heavy pack from him.

“I’ll tell Chrystyn about your boots, I promise. It’s just the furs need cleaning, and quickly. You know how it is.”

Nathien did, and with another sigh she hoisted the heavy pack onto her shoulders and set off back down the steep surface of the hill. She hated these little errands, particularly when they happened to be at times like these when she wanted to talk to someone or do something, but at least she could look through the skins and see if there was any Skeever hide hiding in the depths. With that thought in mind, she hiked the pack up further on her shoulders and set off with a quick stride. The quicker she worked, the faster she’d get it done.

As Nathien disappeared down the hill, Axel clapped his large hands together, the sound like a crack of lightning through the mountain. Everyone’s attention turned to him and Vyctanna, who was observing them all coolly, and Rodynak shifted nervously, feeling his heart beat a little faster as her eyes landed on him. With one smooth motion of her arm, she beckoned towards her tent.

“It seems that a camp vote is now needed to discuss some future actions, which will take place in the main shelter. We will move there now.”

As the order rung around the silent camp, people shared unsure looks with each other. However, as Vyctanna and Axel made their way to the shelter, people began to slowly follow, Rodynak close behind the Briarheart. He was incredibly nervous; about the vote, about the outcome, and also where he’d take Nathien if everything went wrong. She didn’t have tattoos yet, so if he got her proper clothes he could drop her off in Falkreath, or Whiterun. They’d think she was a lone traveller, an orphan. She could hunt for a living - that was very popular in the plains. It was just… how would he get her there safely?

Looking behind quickly, he was worried to see Alexia lagging behind, avoiding his eyes. Rodynak could only wish to the Princes that she’d make the right choice in the end. To be honest, he wouldn’t put it past her to make the wrong choice, particularly if Varnis – who was very pro-Breton – opted to vote against Nathien. Alexia and Varnis got along very well, and Rodynak hoped she wouldn’t put friendship before sense.

Heading into the tent, Rodynak entered first, holding the flap open for everyone to enter. Vyctanna and Axel entered first, not sparing him even a glance. As Chrystyn entered, whom he could rely on to not vote against the poor Bosmer, he gave her a look of warning. She seemed very confused by this turn of events, but his look seemed to give her a least a notion of what was to occur. Holding onto Bedard’s hand tightly, she tugged him into place beside her, and Varnis and Alexia quickly joined them to stand on the other side of the tent. Alexia still avoided Rodynak’s eyes, having a sudden interest in the shrine, and Rodynak made a little prayer to any Daedra, Divine or ethereal being that could possibly change the tides of the vote. Nathien was going to need all the help she could get.

As they stood quietly, Vyctanna said nothing at all, as silent as Axel. Rodynak looked around nervously while they stewed in the heavy silence, and soon people were becoming tense. Chrystyn was shuffling nervously, and Varnis and Alexia were looking around as their bodies started to become more rigid. Still, Vyctanna was silent, and Rodynak took the time to stare hard at Vyctanna with fire in his eyes. While he seemed calm - still and silent - under the surface he was absolutely furious. The fact that they even had to consider this at all was ridiculous. It didn’t matter how good Vyctanna’s argument was, or even if it _would_ improve the camp as a whole. If they wanted Nathien then they damn well had to get through him first.

Still, he was nervous, too. He was sure Chrystyn and Bedard would be on his side – they cared a lot for Nathien, and there was no way in Oblivion they’d vote to turn her. That made three against the vote. However, it was Alexia that was the issue. Varnis didn’t really like Nathien, if only because she was an Elf, so Rodynak couldn’t help but assume the worst for him. And, to add to it, if Varnis said yes, then Alexia might follow his example. If so, that made four against Rodynak. And a majority.

Finally, as the silence grew ever heavier, Chrystyn finally spoke out.

“So, what vote are we talking about, here? Limiting how much food Rodynak can consume in a day?”

Her little tease made Rodynak smile, breaking through the tense muscles of his face. Chrystyn could always be relied upon for lightening the atmosphere, but Rodynak was disturbed to see it didn’t even a put a dent into the silence around them. It was like she’d thrown a pebble into an endless sea, for all it did to disrupt it.

Vyctanna, however, did react, looking up to Chrystyn with dark, stony eyes. Chrystyn’s soft smile fell immediately, and she instinctively moved closer to Bedard.

“No, Chrystyn. We are here to talk about Nathien. More specifically, her future here among us.”

Looking around the tent, she took the time to watch every Forsworn’s face – Chrystyn and Bedard, who appeared nervous and unsure; Rodynak, who looked dangerously calm; Alexia, who seemed very uncomfortable and Varnis, who looked rather questioning at the whole situation. The vote would cause quite a divide, and Vyctanna was well aware of the possible fallout that would ensue.

“We’re here to vote on whether Nathien should become a Briarheart.”

“No!” Against the silence, Chrystyn’s outburst hurt Rodynak’s ears. He snapped his head around to take in her incredibly shocked face, and for a moment all he could feel was relief - if she opposed it, so did Bedard. That made three in Nathien’s favour, including himself. However, her cry had a different effect on the others; Alexia winced and Bedard jumped a little in surprise. Varnis raised a single eyebrow at her, and Vyctanna simply stared at her.

“You can’t.” She continued, looking around in absolute astonishment. “Since _when_ were Briarhearts ever forc- it’s of their own free will, are you completely- no. No, no, no. No.” Her sentences merged into one long, confusing argument, a waterfall of words falling from her mouth as she ran her hands through her hair in disbelief. Bedard also looked immensely appalled, and he began to shake his head too, mouth wide open. Rodynak couldn’t stop his smile, but as he turned to look at Varnis the smile faded. Varnis, unlike Chrystyn, didn’t seem quite as opposed to the idea.

“I don’t see why not.” He began, crossing his arms as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “After all, she is _not_ a proper Forsworn. She wasn’t even born back _then._ She’s a misplaced Bosmer and she’ll be a lot more useful if she became a Briarheart. I vote yes.”

Rodynak had to admit he’d never been particularly good friends with Varnis. Varnis was the main reason Rodynak had had trouble integrating Nathien into the camp, and to this day he’d never liked the girl. But now, Rodynak had never hated him more. Every dinner he ever ate was due to Nathien’s excellent shooting and foraging, and if they got through this okay he was going to remind him of that every single day.

However, this was when the problems would begin. Vyctanna and Axel would, of course, vote yes. Varnis had also, to Rodynak’s fury, voted yes. Chrystyn and Bedard and Rodynak had all voted no. That meant Alexia was the only one who could break the stalemate, and now that Varnis had voted yes it seemed likely she would too. Rodynak had never been so scared for Nathien in his life.

“I vote yes.” Vyctanna’s wheezing voice informed them as Rodynak glared daggers at Varnis’s head, Chrystyn joining him with fury. Looking at Axel, she watched him slowly nod to an unsaid question and continued with “As does Axel. So, we are at an impasse.”

Everyone turned to look at Alexia, whose dark tattoos now seemed to glow on her place skin. She looked at everyone nervously as the tent was once again quiet, and Rodynak watched her closely, trying to catch her eye. This was it. If she said yes, then Rodynak would need to have a very serious escape plan as soon as she gave her answer. She’d need supplies, so perhaps he could get to the tent… an insane idea. They’d be better off killing some guards and using that instead. Luckily, he had his axes on him. Maybe he could sink one into Axel’s skull before he ran for his life.

As Rodynak debated his choices, Alexia, who was now starting to shake like a leaf,  began to try and speak. Even though she was incredibly bossy with people weaker than her, it was amazing to see how she fell apart in the face of choices and responsibility as a whole. Rodynak knew this huge fault was why she was a mere Looter, and she could’ve been so much more if she hadn’t been so… well, like she was now. Quaking in her boots as she tried to summon up the courage to even pronounce a single word.

“Well… um… I- I, uh…”

Both Chrystyn and Bedard were observing her now, Chrystyn sending her an awful lot of dirty looks. That was a point - if she said yes, then she’d probably be spending the next night in a grave. Chrystyn  was very merciless when it came down to it, and Rodynak wouldn’t put it past her for her next move to be wringing Alexia’s neck. Alexia was probably very aware of that too, hence why she was very anxiously watching Chrystyn’s sword in her belt. A little part of Rodynak couldn’t bring himself to care.

Every second that passed would be Nathien cleaning - or even already returning. She was good at those little tasks, more than Vyctanna probably realised, and thus there was a very real chance she’d return very soon.

 _‘Please be rational, please be rational, please be rational.’_ Rodynak had started chanting in his head, some crazy mantra that he was weirdly hoping she would be able to hear. _‘Please, please, please be rational’._

Maybe she did hear him. Maybe she’d gained some ability to read minds under the stress, but being rational was exactly what she did.

“I’m sorry,” she addressed Vyctanna, still shaking but trying to stand as tall as she could as her decision was - finally - reached. “I’m sorry but- but this isn’t a very wise idea. B- Briarhearts are meant to be strong - really strong. And that isn’t Nathien. I- I have… I have to vote no. I’m sorry.”

For some reason, Rodynak’s mind partly convinced him she’d said yes. Then, after a few second, pure relief flooded through him like an opened dam. He rubbed his face with his hand as he moaned with some strange mix of frustration and joy, and Chrystyn fell onto Bedard’s shoulder, sagging with happiness. That had been close. Too close.

Vyctanna said nothing, watching Alexia as Rodynak drew her into his arms in a massive embrace. She gave him a wobbly smile in return, and Vyctanna cleared her throat with a hint of impatience.

“Very well. Your wishes shall be respected, Rodynak. Nathien shall not become a Briarheart.”

He grinned, letting go of Alexia to face the hagraven, kneeling before her in a rush of gratitude. She was safe. He’d protected her. He’d kept his promise once more.

“Thank you, Matriarch.”

“But.”

The single word suddenly stopped the flow of joy that was fading in the tent, and Rodynak looked up, confused. But?

Vyctanna looked down at him, her black eyes on his as the smallest hint of a smile appeared on her face. Rodynak was not stupid - even he could feel the anger radiating off her due to her failed plan, and he felt his throat dry as a sliver of fear found its way to his heart.

“If I ever feel that the safety of the camp has been compromised, then I shall not hesitate to do what I feel is best. And next time… “

The smile became a twisted grin.

“There will be no vote.”

 

* * *

 

There had been Skeever hide in the pack, as it turned out, and Nathien was very pleased. It wasn’t charred, but she could do that herself over the fire. At least she had some to fill in the gaps.

It had been a good haul, overall - lots of hide for clothes and bedding, plenty of ingredients, masses of gold (even though they didn’t need it), some materials like bones and wood and lots and lots of food. That all came out of only Varnis’s pack, too; Chrystyn was bound to have a similar amount of loot in hers as well, so camp was going to be well-supplied, at least for a while.

Nathien had finished cleaning the skins a while ago - now she was just lounging on the hillside, playing with a long blade of grass.  It wasn’t very safe to do so - she’d forgotten her bow, and she only had her axes - but she didn’t particularly care. It was getting quite sunny out and it wasn’t like anyone ever walked around the hills randomly. Everyone knew the Forsworn were fraught around Markarth and that adventure was best left to the fools, so she was sure that she was alone. Not even the sabre cat a little further on was around - she’d seen it lumbering off to the east when she’d arrived and hadn’t heard from it since.

As she laid in the grass lazily, hearing nearby goats bleating and insects buzzing around her ears, she noticed another noise coming from the south. It wasn’t the sound of a group of travellers, nor of a carriage or caravan, but rather of a fast gallop of hooves. Nathien didn’t really believe it. There weren’t any paths around for horses to travel upon, nor were there any destinations to travel to. So, either someone was trying to take a very fast shortcut, or the camp had been found out.

Getting up, Nathien dropped the grass blade and grabbed her axes. It didn’t sound like there were many; in fact, counting the beats she could guess at only one. Whoever it was was galloping along, however, and this concerned her. A scout? A runaway bandit? Both meant others would be closely following, and Nathien cursed herself for not having her bow. If she did, she could take out the legs of the horse from afar. She’d be playing a dangerous game trying to take it down with only her axes.

The pack was by the stream a little farther forward, but she didn’t have time to retrieve it and run. The horse was getting closer and she could only hope it would trip on the bag, or something. Hopefully.

After a few tense moments there was a burst of motion from up ahead, and a horse suddenly appeared from over the lip of the hill. Wishing she could throw as well as Rodynak,  Nathien readied an axe, watching as the dark mare gallop past the burial site and towards the Bosmer with immense speed. She couldn’t see the rider, but as it came closer and Nathien prepared to try and bury her blade in the flank, it suddenly reared up and the rider cried out in a very familiar voice.

“Nathien!”

“Alyssa?!”

Indeed, as the horse fell onto four hooves once more, Nathien could see the dark, tattooed face of her fellow alchemist. She was wearing a very thick brown cloak that covered her body and shadowed her face, but as the horse slowed to a stop, she was far more recognisable. Nathien wasn’t able to mistake her intense green eyes for anyone else.

“Why are you-” Nathien started, staring up at the huge horse in pure surprise. “Whose horse is this? Why-”

“I stole it off a passing Nord - I was in a hurry. I’ve got an urgent message and I need to talk to Vyctanna.” The older woman said in a rush, making her way past Nathien and down towards the trees. Watching her pass for a few seconds, Nathien ran to grab the pack by the stream and went back to her side, full of questions.

“What message is it?” That was one of a million questions, but it had to be a very exciting kind of message to need such speed. To use a horse, too, was amazing. Vyctanna had always warned Nathien against using horses, because the Old Gods - who materialised in the form of animals in order to keep people fed and warm at all times - did not approve of people who used animals more like slaves. All animals were to be respected, because they were what let people survive. Using horses for mere transport was considered a grievous misdeed.

Alyssa stopped the horse long enough to give Nathien a long look. Deep down she was actually quite conflicted over how she felt about this particular message, but it had been urgent and Alyssa had even been tossed out of the camp she’d been helping to allow ample time to return home. However, after all the trouble she’d been though to get home again, she was going to pass the message on whether she liked it or not. So, as she started to speak, Nathien was witness to the most exciting news of her young life so far.

“The camps are wanted at Lost Valley Redoubt. The campaign against Markarth is beginning.”

 

* * *

 

_END OF THE FIRST CONFLICT_

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, welcome to the prologue of my new Forsworn-centric story! Ever since I found out how much other people seem to hate the Forsworn, I felt I simply needed to give some love out there somewhere. I hope you enjoy this, because this plot is writing itself in my head and I'm really excited to get it out here. Feel free to leave a review or summat, and... yeah!
> 
> Any mistakes are mine and mine alone. Apologies in advance.


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